


The Full Monty

by nix_this



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Damn Scotty's Hot, Engine Room Shenanigans, M/M, Ship Olympics, Smut, Team Tartan, Tribble Orgy 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-18
Updated: 2011-03-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nix_this/pseuds/nix_this
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've done their duty, the ship is saved. Now they're stuck in the Engine room with some time on their hands. Whatever <i>will</i> they do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Full Monty

**Author's Note:**

> Comment porn for [](http://community.livejournal.com/st_respect/profile)[**st_respect**](http://community.livejournal.com/st_respect/)'s first Tribble Orgy. Theme: LOCKDOWN. Now cleaned up and mostly typo free :)
> 
> Beta'd by the fabulous [](http://janice-lester.livejournal.com/profile)[**janice_lester**](http://janice-lester.livejournal.com/) who is both my hero AND the wind beneath my wings. Have I ever told you that?

Scotty grunts as Jim slams him back against a cooling tank and attacks his mouth. He tastes of coffee and adrenaline, still too keyed up from the desperate hours they'd fought to restore power to the _Enterprise_ to be much bothered with finesse. The lights are blinking back on, and the subtle hiss of the emergency life support systems as they come back online is better than a standing ovation at an Engineering conference.

He tangles his fingers in the sweat-soaked fabric of Jim's tunic, pulling his head back and realigning their lips so their teeth don't connect. Jim groans into his mouth and brings his hands up to cradle Scotty's head as he presses into him.

They're both covered in dust and grease and sweat. Jim's tunic is torn from shimmying under the reactor vents to get at the panelling. Scotty's pants are burned from where the containment field had flared out when they'd first started losing power. He'll be sore tomorrow, he knows. And likely to fall victim to one of Doctor McCoy's legendary diatribes on the "damn fool recklessness" of himself, his department, his captain, Starfleet, the Federation and whatever else he can think of while he treats the minor damages. It could take hours.

Those are all trifles, though, next to the flush of victory and the hardness of Jim's cock pressing into his hip. He slides his hands down to grab a double handful of Jim's arse and hauls him in closer.

Jim tears his lips away, panting. "So," he says, "protocol dictates that the Engine room gets locked down in the event of a system failure." His grin is a wide and foolish thing, but Scotty warms to see it nonetheless. He may even have its answer spreading across his own face.

"Aye," Scotty agrees. "We're stuck down here for another hour or so. 'Til the computer finishes her analysis."

Jim grinds into him again, rubbing their erections together. "Whatever shall we do with ourselves?"

Scotty squeezes Jim's arse tighter, guiding his hips in slow circles to optimize the friction. "I think I still have a deck of cards in the tool room," he offers. "We could play some poker, pass the time."

Jim huffs a laugh and leans in to whisper: "You still owe me from the last time we played."

Scotty shivers. Jim's teeth are worrying at his neck, sending all manner of distracting sensations coursing through him. "You cheated."

He can feel Jim smile against his skin at the accusation. "I won." Jim follows this with a series of soft kisses up Scotty's jaw, hips still rolling, rocking them together.

It's getting a mite difficult to concentrate, like he's dipped too heavily into his stores, only instead of good scotch, he's drunk on Jim. It's not such a bad state of affairs.

He turns his head and claims Jim's lips with his own. Licks into his mouth and breathes him in all at once. He plays with Jim's tongue, sucks and nibbles at his bottom lip, swallows the tiny, approving noises he makes like a thirsty man offered water.

Jim's hands are working at his tunic, shoving it up to get at his skin. Scotty breaks away from the kiss to help.

"So you've decided your forfeit, then?" he asks when Jim throws his tunic to the floor. It's still cool in the Engine room, the environmental controls will be a while yet to warm up. Jim's gaze burning a path over his chest and down his stomach are enough to take the bite out of the air though.

He smiles slowly, and nods. "You. Naked. Now." Scotty's taken aback anew at how pretty Jim is, cocky grin, mussed hair, the smear of grease over one cheekbone and all. He wants, aye, and badly. He's still amazed that he's wanted in return, though Jim's hot eyes and the bulge in his trousers leave little room for doubt.

"Aye," he breathes, bending to fiddle with the straps of his boots. "Even though you're a rotten cheat, Jim Kirk, a Scotsman never welches."

Jim smirks. "Less talky, more strippy. I want the full monty, Monty." Scotty shoots him a glare that is largely ignored. Jim moves to dispose of his own kit, kicking off his boots and wriggling out of his pants without even undoing the fussy clasps. A wise move, however improbable, since Jim wears his so tight.

Jim's mastered the art of whirlwind nudity so thoroughly that Scotty's still working out of his trousers when he's finished. He stands, erect and unabashedly leering while Scotty nearly trips on his own feet because he's not paying them any mind.

They share a grin and move for each other. Mouths and skin and cocks meet in a happy, horny rush.

Jim's hands are greedy and relentless, squeezing their way over Scotty's back and down his sides. One kneads at his hips and brushes over his cock, while the other traces a path up Scotty's chest. Long fingers tangle in the hair over his pecs and fingernails scratch lightly over his nipples before streaking up to curl around his nape.

His mouth, in contrast, is steadfast. Their kisses are filthy, wet and perfect. Breathing is less important than rediscovering every possible angle their lips can connect at.

Scotty gives as good as he gets, and he's less of a tease about it too. He directs the rhythm of their thrusts to maximize contact, walks them back to the cooling tank with a mix of jerky steps and needy moans. He hits the cool glass and he braces—locks his stance so Jim has something steady to rub against. It's he who finally breaks the kiss so they can both gasp like drowning men finally surfacing.

"Fuck," Jim says. "I really, really want you, Scotty."

Scotty moans and bucks his hips in agreement. "Aye, Jim. Me too."

They rock together, Jim's arms bracketing Scotty, bands of heat holding him in. He leans in to nibble at Jim's throat, flicking his tongue at the tendons exposed when Jim tilts back to give him better access. Tragically, the sealed bulkhead is blocking access to the medkit, with its glorious, glorious Lubrinol, but Scotty figures he can still make this good for the both of them. He brings a hand up to his mouth and licks it, thoroughly, eyeing Jim all the while.

Jim draws in a sharp breath and shudders against him. "Yes. Fuck. Touch me."

He slips his hand between their sweat slicked bodies and grips them both. Jim presses his forehead into Scotty's shoulder and bites off a harsh gasp.

They both watch as Scotty works their cocks. Jim's flushes almost purple. Scotty's is redder. He strokes them loosely at first, groaning and thrusting into his own fist. Jim's rocking into it shallowly, setting a counterpoint that brings the sensitive head of Scotty's prick into contact with the silky skin on Jim's shaft with every other stroke. Their precome mingles with their combined sweat, smoothing out the motion when Scotty tightens his grip.

"Ah, fuck. Fuck. Scotty. So good." Jim hips stutter as Scotty starts pulling them faster. His own orgasm is fast approaching and he's determined to see Jim off first. He swivels his wrist so that the pad of his thumb curves over the head of Jim cock and squeezes over it.

Jim stiffens and swears, turning his head to bite into the meat of Scotty's shoulder when he comes all over Scotty's hand. Scotty sees it all, unable to tear his eyes away as he milks out every drop and coats himself in Jim's come.

"Jim," Scotty moans and pumps harder, the hot fluid spreading over his dick and the pressure of Jim's teeth sinking into his skin sending him over the edge. He sags back, the solidity of the cooling tank at his back and Jim's dead weight sagging against his front the only things keeping him on his feet.

"Shit," Jim breathes after an age. "I'm going to have to cheat at poker more often."

Scotty chuckles, still a bit breathless in the aftermath of a lovely orgasm. "I knew it, ye bastard."

By Scotty's reckoning, they've got another twenty minutes before the lockdown ends. He slides down to the floor and hauls Jim with him. That's easily time enough for a nap and a cuddle.


End file.
